


Unreliable Speedometers

by Dracothelizard



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Comedy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-15
Updated: 2009-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dracothelizard/pseuds/Dracothelizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Top Gear is doing a cheap car challenge to find which car is best for towing caravans. Unfortunately, Jeremy's Audi has a broken speedometer, so Jeremy decides to find himself the next best thing instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unreliable Speedometers

**Author's Note:**

> None of this ever happened, obviously.

It’s another cheap car challenge, and this time they’re trying to find the perfect car for towing a caravan. Jeremy has an Audi that has been doing rather well, despite its broken speedometer, and he’s won the quarter mile drag race and the Stig set the fastest lap time with the Audi as well. The fact that a caravan was attached to the car during both challenges hasn’t reduced Jeremy’s smugness in the slightest.   
  
Richard claims he only got the Alfa Romeo because he doesn’t even want to win, and the best way to achieve that is clearly by constantly breaking down. The Alfa Romeo hasn’t disappointed in that respect so far.  
  
James, meanwhile, has insisted that his reliable Volvo is the best, despite it not having won anything yet. “Its time will come,” he says, while Jeremy crows about his victory after the quarter mile drag race. “Just wait.”   
  
They’re handed another challenge, and Richard’s the one who reads it out to them. “As you know, the maximum speed for a car towing a caravan on the motorway is sixty miles an hour. Your next challenge will be to drive at sixty miles an hour with your car for two minutes. Points will be deducted for every second you’re going faster than sixty, or slower than fifty-five.”   
  
James grins at Jeremy, whose face has fallen. “Prepare to be beaten, sir,” he says triumphantly.  
  
“Yeah, you’re never gonna win this one,” Richard adds, smirking.   
  
“Well, neither are you,” Jeremy tells Richard. “And I may not have a speedometer, but I have got the next best thing.”   
  
“What’s that, then?” James asks, curious.  
  
“I need to make a phone call first,” Jeremy replies. He walks away from them, and takes his mobile phone out of his pocket.   
  
Richard and James exchange glances. “What d’you think he’s up to?” Richard asks, looking over at Jeremy.   
  
“He’s probably trying to arrange to have a speed gun, or something,” James says. “And it’s Clarkson, so it’ll probably go wrong anyway.”  
  
***  
  
As it turns out, it’s not a speed gun. Instead, it’s a man who’s a little shorter than James with ginger hair and a goatee. “Hello,” he says, and shakes hands with James and Richard. “I’m Derren Brown.”   
  
“Did Jeremy call you so you could trick us into thinking he’s won the next challenge?” Richard asks, standing back a bit. “Because there’re cameras everywhere, so it won’t work for the show.”   
  
Derren smiles. “No, he’s called me because he needs a reliable speedometer,” he explains.   
  
“And you just happened to be in the neighbourhood?” James asks, frowning.   
  
“I’m doing a show in the area tonight,” Derren says with a shrug.  
  
Jeremy walks over to them, looking smug. “I see you’ve met my next best thing,” he declares, nodding at Derren, who frowns a little at Jeremy’s words.  
  
“He’s your speedometer?” Richard asks, laughing. “Seriously? I thought you were joking,” he says to Derren, who shakes his head.   
  
“We’ll both have walkie-talkies, and he can tell me what speed I’m doing,” Jeremy explains. “It’ll be brilliant. I’ll even go first.” He and Derren walk off, to get their walkie-talkies and then wander to the part of the track where they’re doing the next challenge.  
  
“D’you think that’ll even work?” Richard asks James, as he watches them go. “Really?”   
  
“It might,” James replies. “But that doesn’t mean we should let it.”   
  
Richard grins. “You’ve got a plan.”   
  
James can’t help but smile. “I do.”   
  
***  
  
Jeremy is in his Audi, caravan attached, but he’s nowhere near sixty yet, so Derren just watches the car for now, calculating its speed in his head.   
  
“So, you’ll be doing Jeremy’s maths, then?” James asks, walking up to him. “That’s very kind of you.”   
  
“I’m a very kind man,” Derren replies, still looking at the Audi.   
  
“You know, you probably are more reliable than an actual speedometer,” James tells him. “Especially compared to the ones in the old cars we’re driving today. The needles always tend to be a little bit off, depending on the make and age of the car, obviously, but it can be up to ten percent.”   
  
Derren glances over at James briefly. “Really?” he asks. “Jeremy, you’re at sixty now,” he tells Jeremy through the walkie-talkie. “Keep it at this speed.”   
  
“Jeremy is terrible at doing what you tell him to do,” James says. “He’s never going to listen.”   
  
“He’s doing quite well so far,” Derren replies.  
  
“I suppose so. Anyway, did you know that the faster you go, the more unreliable a speedometer gets? I’m talking about the ones that work with needles, obviously. I’ve done some calculations, and you have to keep in mind the state of the suspension, of course. The worse it is, the more unreliable the speedometer gets. It’s actually very fascinating,” James explains. “There’s quite a lot of things to keep in mind.”   
  
“You’ve done calculations?” Derren asks, sort of impressed. “To find out what sort of car has the most unreliable speedometer?”   
  
“Well, yes. I was curious, so I had to find out,” James replies. “It took me some time to find the right formula, but once I had that, it was all very simple. It’s also to do with the angle of the needle, you know.”   
  
“You’ll have to tell me more about that,” Derren says. “Once I’m done here.”   
  
James looks over at their crew, and one of them is waving his hands in the air, the signal that Jeremy’s two minutes are over. “Actually, I think you are.”   
  
“What?” Derren watches as Jeremy slows down, and then glances back at James. “You distracted me!”   
  
James grins. “Of course.”   
  
Despite himself, Derren has to laugh. “I can’t believe you distracted me. I’m very cross with you now,” he says, mock serious.   
  
“All’s fair in a Top Gear challenge,” James says, still smiling. “Let’s see how he’s done, shall we?”   
  
They walk over to Richard, who has been handling the speed gun with a crew member, and he’s looking pretty pleased. “He was doing sixty-five miles for most of the time,” Richard says, grinning. “Your plan worked!”   
  
“You have ruined my reputation, though,” Derren says. “I shall never be able to show my face on stage or on television ever again.”   
  
Richard snorts. “I’m sure you’ll think of something else to do with your time. Anyway, it’s my turn, provided my Alfa Romeo will work.” He wanders off, handing the speed gun to James.   
  
“Buy you a drink after?” James asks, pushing some buttons on the speed gun. “Considering that I’ve made you unemployed now.”   
  
“ _A_ drink?” Derren asks pointedly, one eyebrow raised.  
  
“Well, two. One for you, one for your bruised ego,” James offers.   
  
Derren laughs. “And then you can tell me all about unreliable speedometers and your formula for them.”   
  
James looks a little surprised, as if he can’t imagine anyone being genuinely interested in that sort of thing, but he smiles. “Sounds delightful.”   
  
And Derren completely agrees with him.


End file.
